


Letters Home

by AniDragon



Series: World State 02: LGBT [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: M/M, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:37:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AniDragon/pseuds/AniDragon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dorian learns a bit about the family Engel Trevelyan lost at the Conclave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Letters Home

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to Elthadriel for beta-reading! :)

            The Inquisition had been at Skyhold for a little over a week when Dorian found Engel Trevelyan -- the newly minted Inquisitor -- hiding in a corner of the library, quill in hand and frowning at a blank piece of parchment. The crumbled papers at his feet hinted that he might have been there a while.

            Taking pity on him, Dorian made his way over; clearly the man needed a break.

            “Composing love poetry?” He teased.

            Engel snorted, “Hardly. I’m writing to my parents. Or... At least I’m trying to. I should let them know I survived Haven...”

            Dorian felt a pang in his chest, and then made every effort to ignore it as he sat in the chair across the table from Engel. “I’m sure our darling ambassador can see to that, if she hasn’t already. And, if your parents haven’t already heard the news of your appointment as Inquisitor, they will long before your letter reaches them.”

            “I know, it’s just...” He sighed, shaking his head and not looking up from his parchment. “I wasn’t the only member of my family at the Conclave. My parents have already lost three of their children. I just wanted to reassure them personally that they haven’t lost a fourth.”

            “I’m sorry,” Dorian said with a wince. “I didn’t even realize... Are you alright?”

            Engel nodded, finally looking up at him. “I did my mourning already, long before you joined the Inquisition. And... I wasn’t very close to Max, and frankly I never got along with Lucas. Mjrn was... Well, I knew her the least, and yet her death was still the hardest...”

            Without even thinking, Dorian reached over to place his hand over Engel’s, squeezing gently. “Tell me about her?”

            Engel seemed surprised at the action, but didn’t pull away, instead dropping his quill to squeeze back. “She was my twin sister, actually. We were very close as children, and got into tons of trouble together. Then... One day when we were six, she showed me that she could make fire come out of her hands.”

            “She was a mage?” Dorian asked, suddenly suspecting where this was going.

            Engel nodded. “I didn’t tell anyone, at first. There are a lot of Templars in our family, so even at that age I knew that if anyone found out, she’d be taken away. But then one day she lost control and set her hair on fire, and I... I had to tell my parents what happened. Then, after her burns were treated, she was sent to the Circle, and I never saw her again.”

            “Until the Conclave,” Dorian guessed.

            “Until the Conclave,” Engel agreed. “It was chance that I came across her, but when I did I knew it had to be her. Twenty years isn’t enough to forget your twin’s face...” He paused, then shrugged sheepishly. “Well, the white hair and burn scar along her hair line helped, too.”

            Dorian chuckled at that, and Engel smiled, “She was nervous talking to me at first… And why wouldn’t she be? I’m the one who spilled her secret and got her sent to the Circle. But I think she understood, too, that I was young and scared when I did that. After I mentioned that I supported mage freedom, we ended up talking for hours. At least until…”

            Engel’s smile dropped, and Dorian squeezed his hand again. “For what it’s worth, I think she’d be proud of what you’re doing for mages, now.”

            “I like to think so.” Engel shrugged.

            “Is she the reason you’re so passionately helping the mage rebellion?” Dorian asked.

            “She’s part of the reason. You know, I used to write to her. When Lucas became a Templar, he told me that none of my letters ever made it to her, and refused to smuggle them into the Circle himself. She must have thought we abandoned her completely, and stopped caring about her. When I talked to her at the Conclave, she said that she’d sent us letters, too. I’d never seen any of them.”

            “That’s horrible!” Dorian scoffed. He’d be the first to admit that Tevinter had barbaric practices of its own, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t recognize an injustice when he heard one.

            “I… haven’t told my parents that I met her at the Conclave, yet…” Engel admitted. “Part of me thinks they should know, but another part of me… Well. It might be kinder for me to keep it to myself. Losing Max and Lucas was hard enough on them.”

            Dorian wasn’t sure how to reply to that. It was a personal decision, and he honestly didn’t know what the right answer was. So instead he stayed quiet, and absentmindedly rubbed small circles on Engel’s hand with his thumb. An attempt at comfort, he’d tell himself later.

            “Does this make you your parents’ heir, now?” He asked after a moment.

            “Oh, Maker, no!” Engel exclaimed, and he looked vaguely horrified at the thought. “I still have three other older siblings, thank Andraste. Could you imagine, me as the head of a noble family? It would be a disaster.”

            Dorian let out a small laugh. “Well, you’re doing alright being the head of the Inquisition.”

            “The Inquisition doesn’t require me to marry some noblewoman and produce heirs of my own.” Engel rolled his eyes. “Something I’d be particularly bad at, all things considered.”

            Dorian paused his thumb for a split second, studying Engel’s face. He’d suspected the Herald’s inclinations, of course. The way he’d blush at some of Dorian’s more obvious flirtations, not to mention him flirting in return. But flirting and acting on those flirtations were very different things.

            “I know the feeling,” he replied.

            Engel gave him a knowing look, then looked down at their still joined hands. “It can’t be easy, being the only heir.”

            _You don’t know the half of it_ , he wanted to say. Tevinter wasn’t like the South. Noble bloodlines were important here, yes, and arranged marriages still happened. But in the South, if you didn’t love your spouse, you could openly have a mistress or consort, and no one batted an eye. Tevinter cared too much about appearances to allow that sort of thing. Any affairs had to happen in secret.

            But Dorian stayed quiet. His self imposed exile was still too new, too raw, for him to bring up those wounds out loud.

            “I…” He began, then stuttered to a stop, suddenly aware of every presence in the library. No one was watching them, but Dorian couldn’t help but feel as if every pair of eyes in the room was on them. “I should… Let you get back to your letter.” He deflected, standing up.

            “Oh.” Engel masked his disappointment poorly. “Right.”

            Dorian lingered for a moment, still holding his hand. He gave it a final squeeze, along with an apologetic smile, before letting go. “I’m sorry. It’s just… Sore subject.” It was a weak excuse, but it was the best he could come up with. “Later, perhaps? With more wine, and less people around?”

            Engel nodded, concern evident on his face, and Dorian fled to his own corner of the library as quickly as he could without drawing attention to himself.

            Once there he leaned against the window and let out a heavy breath. This infatuation he had with the Herald was getting dangerous. It was never meant to get to this point. When Engel had first started responding to his flirtation, he'd thought it might lead to a fun night, but nothing more. That's how things always went. He knew better than to fall in love -- had been burned by it before.

            Even here in the South... Could he dare to hope for more?

            With a sigh, he glanced over at the books that were piling up by his chair. There was a new pile there every day -- either books people had rescued from Haven, or new books that had been donated. He'd taken it upon himself to organize the library, and it seemed like his unofficial job was starting to become well known. He didn't mind, and in fact right now he could certainly use the distraction.

           


End file.
